


Strange As Angels

by Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Remix, Better late than never?, Oh Tony, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Rhodey Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has Issues, feeels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony only wants one thing from Rhodey; he's just wrong about what that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhoenixFalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Lonely, Lost Thing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/689504) by [PhoenixFalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/pseuds/PhoenixFalls). 



> First and foremost, my sincere apologies to [ PhoenixFalls ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/pseuds/PhoenixFalls), [ zeta-tauri ](http://zeta-tauri.livejournal.com/), and everyone who participated in the [ Avengers Remix ](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/AvengersRemix) this summer. I have learned my lesson about signing up for fests. OTL
> 
> Almost as importantly, endless thanks to my amazingly fantastic beta, [ GrandShipperOfJohnlockAndStony ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GrandShipperOfJohnlockAndStony/pseuds/GrandShipperOfJohnlockAndStony), this would still be hiding half finished on my hard drive without her encouragement and proofing. Any errors that remain are mine and mine alone.
> 
> This is written in much the same style as [ A love song is just a caress set to music ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/319228); which is fitting, as much like that fic ended a ten year block, this fic has broken my most recent hiatus. As with that fic, this will read much better if you have read the work it is based on. 
> 
> Title is from The Cure's "Just Like Heaven".
> 
> See the end notes for comments on the warnings.
> 
> 4/8/14 ETA: I received some ~fabulous~ concrit a while ago over at the 2013[ End of Year Feedback Meme](http://anonfeedback.livejournal.com/1266.html?thread=599794#t599794). I hope to incorporate it soon. 
> 
> Thank you again to the wonderful Anon for all of the great notes!
> 
> ETA 4/9/14: And done! Speaking of concrit, feel free to leave me a comment here or over at the feedback meme any time. I am especially happy to have typos pointed out. :)

Tony sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth discreetly. What? Contrary to popular belief he is (on occasion) capable of (limited) discretion. Why else would he have pulled Jimmy Whats-His-Name into the Boathouse's bathroom instead of blowing him as soon as they got through the door? Not that there's any real risk of getting caught in the first place.

Jimmy (Jamie? God he's so _over_ Jameses and this one's gotta make it an even half-dozen), has zipped up and is standing awkwardly with his hands in his windbreaker pockets.

"Hey, so... Thanks, ki- man."

"No problemo," Tony smirks as he gets to his feet, hanging his thumbs through his belt loops, framing his erection and licking his lips.

"Oh, uh. There's this Deke party..."

Tony tilts his head to look up through his lashes and carefully (seeing as Jimbo here wasn't exactly gentle) pulls his bottom lip through his teeth. This always works better on girls than guys, but he's hoping for at least a quick handy before dorkus jets.

"So I should bounce."

Fucking crew douches. No class at all. And Tony's been thrown out of the best boarding schools in the country; he knows all about class.

"Sure," Tony shrugs, "Maybe I'll see you there," he continues with casual cruelty, just enough bite to bring a touch of embarrassed fear to the asshole's eyes.

"Umm, yeah..." Jimmy-Jamie flushes, looking kind of nauseous and Tony doesn't even consider curbing his impulse to mess with dick- the 'straight' ones always bring out the worst in him.

"Unless you wanted to go togeth-"

"No! No, that's cool, I've got- I'm meeting some of the crew out front and we're heading over as a group, so..." Tony manages to hold back the derisive laughter that wants to break free, finding some random to bang is better than showing up with this loser anyway.

Less out of an urge to put Jamie-boy out of his misery and more out of the need to get the taste of the blink-and-you'd-miss-it encounter out of his mouth, Tony interrupts him, "Whatever, dude. Did you get-"

"Oh, yeah, here!" Tony knew he put up with upperclassmen for a reason.

He grabs the smaller than he'd like (an unfortunate pattern for the evening he hopes to break) vodka bottle and immediately slams a double, then he pulls another mouthful and swishes it around a bit, savoring the burn before he swallows again. Cheap as it is it's not worth spitting out. He's really gotta find someone with a little taste to bank roll. His terrible fake ID (Tony Edwards, 21, New Mexico) used to be good enough to keep the good one (Tony Carbonelli, 18, New York) from being questioned, but ever since last month's fucking Enquirer cover they're both useless hunks of plastic.

Speaking of useless hunks. Tony takes a couple steps back so that Jimmy-Jamie-James can edge past him. He downs another shot (his fourth for anyone playing along with the home game) and forces himself not to cough, giving a lazy salute as the bathroom door swings shut.

He drinks quietly by himself, perched up on the counter next to the sink, swinging his legs and alternating sips of water from the faucet as he finishes off the bottle.

Well and truly buzzed he leaves the Boathouse and vaguely wonders (but not actually caring) if he'll make it across the street to the welcoming lights of the DKE party.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony hasn't reached his limit.

Tony doesn't have a limit.

...But, he admits that the situation may have gotten a little out of control.

Jamie-Jimmy-James's teammate, the clydesdale he's silently been calling 'Howard' because the jerkoff must have some sort of biological imperative to prove he's the biggest asshole in the room-

Seriously, just because Daddy's a senator doesn't mean you know dick about dick, and especially not when it comes to theoretical physics. Tony isn't sure he can stand and he's still running circles around this wastoid. Tony's recitation of Professor Thomas's guest lecture on chiral symmetry trails off mid-sentence as he loses his train of thought. Again. He takes the shot glass pressed into his hand and tries to remember what he was doing, wincing as he knocks it back. The cheap bourbon _really_ isn't an improvement on Jamie Boy's bogus vodka.

Or the several beers that followed it.

Where was he? He looks around, not quite able to keep the room from spinning. Stupid room. Stupid Probably-Howard (knowing Tony's luck). The Deke's face comes into focus with a disturbing leer marring otherwise wholesome good looks and Tony's brain catches up with his mouth. He'd almost forgotten that he was explaining basic QCD that a four (or drunk fourteen (and a half)) year old could handle to Captain America's fun house mirror image.

"Uh... All I'm, all, all'm shayin' is the meshon-exshange effess preclude a simp... _simple_ interpre... intrep, interpertashun of the **magnetic moment** of the deuteron in termsh of d-state prob... um... probab-b-"

"Anybody ever tell you you've got cocksucker lips, brat?"

Oh, yeah. He's also trying to not get fucked unconscious. It's hard to tell if that's really what's about to happen with the room deciding to go all tilt-o-whirl again, but the familiar signs are getting harder to ignore. It looks like he's in for a repeat of Halloween's gang-bang-a-thon.

Which, let's face it, isn't ideal.

Sure Tony'd come to this stupid party to looking to bone, but he'd rather not have an audience, and he was thinking one or two, not, let's see: one, two, three- huh, either three has a twin or Tony's seeing double... He shrugs and decides to count him/them as one dude. Uh four, fi-

Fuck it. A lot.

Counting is hard.

"You know it, champ. Wha's say we take this conversashen inna back." He'll need help getting there, which'll mean extra groping, but the bruises'll be worth it if it gets this soon to be literal clusterfuck to a relatively private room.

Probably-Howard grins. It isn't a very nice expression, "That's exactly where you'll be taking it, slut."

Shit. He winces (at the terrible pun, he tells himself). He really wishes he could remember where he left his balance (it's probably off having an orgy with his judgment, what little sense of shame he pretends to still have, and the last of his vodka); he can manage flapping his hands and his mouth, but anything more complicated (like, say, standing) is way out of his range at the moment.

Man, he is so wasted. Whose lame idea was it to get drunk off his ass at a DKE party?

At least the pile of coats he's collasped on are reasonably comfortable. And he did wanna get laid, even if this _really_ isn't what he had in mind. If he's lucky he might even get a little spit. He seriously doubts any of these dickheads are carrying lube. He's gotta learn to be more prepared. God, maybe he can will himself to pass out before things go too much further. It wouldn't be the first time he woke up with a sore ass and a hangover. It's been too long (a couple weeks, at least) since he's gotten blackout drunk anyway.

On the other hand, getting fucked _while_ unconscious may not be better than being fucked unconscious. Not that he's bothered to track the results or anything, but anecdotal evidence has pointed to a lot less discomfort if he's lucid enough to offer options.

"You gonna convish me Gell-Mann's approach holz a can'le to Feynman's with the power of your dick, Imma need a couple more shahz."

"Nah, I think it's time you do something useful with that skank mouth of yours," Probably-Howard sneers as he unbuckles his belt; the rest of his team circles Tony like a pack of horny wolves.

Fuck. This isn't going to end well.

Suddenly his world spins and he's mostly upright, which is either awful or awesome, as an amazing smelling knight-without-armor pulls him to his barely cooperating feet. They lurch a couple steps before spinning again. Whee. Tony wraps his arms around his new dance partner.

“Who the fuck are you, and what do you think you’re doing?” Uh oh. Howard isn't happy.

Howards are never happy.

“I think Tony here has had a little too much to drink."

Phhft. No such amin- anin -animinmal... Stupid word. No such thing.

"I’m sure he was having a great time with you all, but he wouldn’t want to drag your partying down now that he’s practically passed out."

Dude must be new around here, everyone knows being passed out doesn't stop Tony Stark from being the life of the party. Tony ignores the touch of bitterness accompanying that thought, probably just the aftertaste from the rotgut he's been downing like Dom Perignon on Prom Night.

"I’ll see that he gets back to his room all right.”

Oh? That sounds good. Tony tries to get a look at his new BFF, taking in the military buzz cut and wide shoulders. Really good. His room. Best idea he's heard all night.

“The party’s just getting started over here, and Stark’s the guest of honor. I think you should mind your own business before somebody finds out there’s a Robbury boy crashing a campus party and kicks you out.”

Mmmm, warm and pleasantly firm muscles tense up beneath him, making Tony's breath stutter. He wonders if studmuffin's chin feels as smooth as it looks. Got to love GI's and their hard-on for impeccable grooming. It'll be bitchin' to make it through a night without getting razorburn. Though usually that's just the back of his neck, which isn't too bad. Dudes mostly like him on his knees. Maybe this time there'll be kissing. He hopes so, he likes kissing. Doesn't get to do it nearly as often as he'd like.

“Well I think you should keep in mind that Tony’s underage, and that Papa Stark is highly unlikely to approve of his only son getting gangbanged by a bunch of douchebag legacy kids," Tony shakes his head on the stranger's shoulder, he doesn't give a good God damn what his father thinks; besides which it's not like Dad's opinion has any lower to drop. "And his lawyers certainly charge more per hour than your daddies’ lawyers do." Tony nods in agreement, burrowing his nose between the rough weave of tall, dark, and fuck me's shirt and his primo skin. 'S smart. Howard Stark could (and would) buy and sell Probably-Howard without blinking.

"And if you object to my presence at this party, you’ll have to take it up with my buddy Mike Coolidge, Deke Social Chair.”

Tony isn't sure how much longer he can pretend to stand, and he's so very ready to get to a room and get naked. He has a theory that all of Army g- oh, wait, that's a USAFA ring- Air Force guy's skin will be as smooth as his jaw and he's looking forward to proving it. He's about to see if it tastes as good as it feels when another hand brushes his shirt and then there's a *crack* and moment of pure silence as everyone in the room seems to hold their breath.

Madonna's voice rushes in to fill the void, "When your heart beats, and you hold me, and you love me-"

There's a shout and then he's half running/half carried out of the frat house.


	3. Chapter 3

The frigid air finally hits him as they charge down Dorm Row, and while he's not instantly sober, the stars seem to be keeping their place in the sky instead of dancing around like it's Homecoming all over again and someone (Tony) spiked the punch.

He can't believe it.

He's been rescued.

No one ever rescues him.

He feels light and dizzy and like he could fly, so he leaps, up, up, and then he's falling into the dry grass and even the faint thudding of his shoulder can't distract him from how good, how... happy (he'd almost forgotten what happiness was like) he is.

He starts to giggle, he can't help himself, and then his hero is in the grass next to him, laughing too. Tony decides then and there do everything in his power to be able to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

Speaking of... heroes deserve a reward, and Tony knows at least one sure way to get a guy's attention.

Tony twists, reaching for flyboy's zipper, nuzzling the front of his pants.

“Stark! What the fuck, man?” Shit! The guy pushes Tony away and is on his feet, standing just to Tony's left... and right. Both of him look seriously PO'd, confusing the hell out of Tony.

Not their being two of them, that's just the booze. (Obviously.)

Tony peers up at the airman from where he's been pushed onto his back, “You don’t wanna blow job?” 

Who the hell turns down a blow job? Much less one from Tony Stark, slickest mouth on the Eastern Seaboard?

“You’re drunk, asshole. I’m not those fucking douchebag crew guys. I’m not gonna make you blow me just ‘cause you’re too young to handle your liquor.”

Huh. What a total Galahad. And also moron.

“Can drink fine. Like givin’ head. Good at it.” So good- the best. And if he gets the chance to prove it maybe, just maybe, the mouthwatering babe in front of him will want to keep him, at least for a little while. Tony swears it'll be the gold medal of blow jobs.

Galahad crosses his arms, disapproval radiating from head to toe, “Yeah, sure you are. But you’re not in any state to do that now. You can’t even sit up straight!”

“Can too.” Admittedly, straight isn't really one of his (many) talents, but he's got this. Especially if it gets them to naked time.

Tony tries to sit up, but the planet is totally not helping, pulling the ground out from under him and causing him to fold up into Galahad's chest. Then those large warm hands are wrapped around his shoulders and there aren't any frat jocks to keep him from tasting the collarbone beneath his lips.

Tony holds back a whimper as the guy shivers and pushes Tony upright. He has beautiful eyes, a couple shades darker than his skin, framed in short dark lashes, and he's looking at Tony like he really sees him. Not Howard Stark's prodigy son. Not a quick mouth or a golden ticket, but _Tony_.

He sighs softly, he could get lost in those eyes. He suppresses a shiver from the sobering autumn air, happy to stay like this as long as possible.

“C’mon. Let’s get you up and back to your room. What dorm are you in?”

Tony pouts, he knew that it was too good to last, and he sure as hell doesn't want to end up in his soulless excuse of a single. Besides, he's got blueprints all over the place that he's totally not ready for anyone else to see.

He closes his eyes and leans into Galahad's arm, then flails his arm vaguely in the direction of the river. “That one.”

“Right. Can you tell me the name of your dorm?”

Uh-uh. He doesn't want to go back to his dorm. It's cold and lonely, and there's a... If he's gonna keep getting plastered and try to do math he's gonna need a hell of a lot more practice cuz the calculation's too hard right now, but he knows the chance that Galahad will abandon him once they get to Tony's dorm (regardless of the Olympian levels of sexual acrobatics Tony is capable of) is too high to risk. “Somethin'... with a B?”

“Baker, Bexley, or BC?”

Yeah, probably. He's like, eighty-eight percent sure it's one of those... (Oh look, math! He likes math. He was worried he was gonna have to choose between thinking and drinking and that would have sucked; but as long as he doesn't try too hard the numbers just come naturally). Anyway, there's not a chance in hell he's going to assist in his own abandonment. They go back to Tony's place, they'll have a quick fuck or suck and then Prince Charming turns back into a pumpkin and leaves him all alone to cry over a stupid shoe. Not that he'd actually care, he's not looking for a boyfriend, just somewhere (someone) to stay the night.

Tony pretends to think about it before falling back against his new favorite support system, cuddling into the strong arms holding him up, “Dunno.”

“What does it look like?”

Can't give too much detail (okay, fine, can't remember too much detail), but can't lie. Not if he has any hope of making this more than a one night stand (which, hey, first time for anything), “There’s... bricks?”

“Those are all brick buildings. This whole goddamn campus is made up of brick buildings. You’re gonna have to narrow it down some.”

“McCormick Hall isn’t brick. Like McCormick Hall,” or, at any rate, the girls of McCormick Hall. And the common room's couch is pretty comfy; almost always has someone willing to fool around with (or cuddle; nothing to be ashamed of, man, it's cool when chicks want to cuddle with you) for an hour or two. Not as nice as sharing a bed with a co-ed, but beggars can't be choosers. 

Galahad groans, “How the hell do you remember that, but you can’t remember where you live?”

Tony grins, “Sleep there more’n in my room. Lossa girls there.” And it was light years ahead of sleeping alone. He never sleeps alone if he can help it.

“And what, they take you in like a stray?”

“Toldja. Like givin’ head.” Or face. Whatever. He's an equal opportunity horn dog.

Now to get Sir Galahad to let him give a practical demonstration.

“For fuck’s sake, Stark. Can you get your mind out of the gutter for one second and conjure up somewhere I can plant you so you can sleep this off?”

Tony knows exactly how he wants to be 'planted', and sleep has nothing (everything) to do with it, “Wanna sleep with you...”

“Too bad. You have your own bed somewhere. Tell me where it is, I’ll tuck you in, and then you’ll sleep by yourself. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Don’ like sleepin’ ‘lone...” Tony wheedles. He's starting to get chilled and he tightens his hug, getting a sigh in return.

“Fine. C’mon, get up, I’ll take you back to my dorm. But if you throw up in my roommate’s bed you’re paying to clean it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Tony takes every opportunity on the way to the dorm to touch Galahad, a hand on his shoulder, his chest, swaying every now and then to brush their hips together.

The walk sobers him up a little more, but he's still tired. So very tired it'd almost be enough to just _sleep_ sleep with Galahad. Maybe he could still get a rain check on the bj he offered. Hell, if he's lucky, put in a down payment with some epic necking. He hides a yawn; he's exhausted but horny enough to push it aside if it means getting some on his own terms. Tony's willing to bet (heh, as if he ever passed up a bet, even if only with himself) that the guy obviously has a hero complex and Tony _knows_ he can work with that; and he's totally willing to do whatever it takes to get horizontal, carnally or otherwise.

He briefly mourns the casual touches when Galahad abandons him in a bathroom stall. The bathroom lights are supernova bright, distracting Tony as he washes his hands, forgetting for a moment to play up his drunken vulnerability (most guys want either someone to conquer or someone to save, and either way the act's the same). He squints at himself himself critically in the mirror as he washes his hands, trying to figure out what flyboy's reluctance is; _he'd_ certainly do him (not that that's a high bar or anything, there've been magazine spreads attesting to the fact that he'll hump anyone with a heartbeat, but if it's one thing Tony knows- okay, if it's one thing he knows it's integrated microcircuitry, but a close second is how very, _very_ , fuckable he is), maybe Galahad's serious about wanting him sober. Which is ridiculous, because everyone knows you can't take advantage of the campus slut; so why does he care if Tony's drunk, sober, or sleeping?

He sways on his feet, prompting the return of his hero's arm around his waist as he leads them to a typical double down the hall from the communal bathroom.

He toes off his sneakers and pads over to the bookshelf, pleasantly surprised at the range of textbooks, though he wishes they'd stay in one place. Yeah, sleepy definitely giving horny a run for its money. And okay, he may still be a little (a lot) drunk.

Out of no where a tumbler of water appears in his hands. “Drink that. This bed —" Galahad (Tony should really ask for his name before he blurts that out) waves at the bed closer to the door “—is my roommate’s. You can sleep here tonight, and I’ll toss the sheets in the wash tomorrow morning,” he places a trashcan by the head of the bed, “If you can’t make it to the bathroom during the night, use the trashcan. If you make a mess you’re the one who’s gonna be cleaning it up. Understand?”

Tony watches him over the rim of the cup; such a gentleman, Tony thinks he might swoon. Passing out and swooning are basically the same.

Galahad's waiting for an answer so he nods. As if this were Tony's first rodeo.

“You need anything to sleep in?”

Other than your arms? Ugh, Tony keeps that little gem to himself, shaking his head. Galahad is totally the type to need wooing, and a sappy (crappy) line isn't gonna cut it.

“All right, make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna get ready for bed,” he says, grabbing a couple things from the dresser before taking the now empty tumbler from Tony, (deliberately?) not touching his hands and leaving Tony alone.

Tony really _hates_ being alone.

Tony stares after him, trying to work out the probability of getting the reaction he wants if Galahad comes back to find Tony naked and on display, eyes sultry and dick hard. That's almost certainly not what he meant by 'make yourself comfortable' so odds are fifty/fifty of Tony ending up naked in the hallway and he'd rather not go through that again. He can handle public nudity just fine, but rejection gives him hives.

He half sits, half falls, into a chair, trying to plan the best way to get Galahad out of his armor of morality and into his pants (and bed).


	5. Chapter 5

Tony's half sober and mostly asleep in the chair when he hears the click of a deadbolt being engaged and blinks his eyes open in time to see a flicker of panic in Galahad's beautiful brown eyes. Why on earth would Gala- okay, no, he really needs to stop pedestalling the guy, especially considering all the filthy plans he's been making, “So... what’s your name?”

Galahad blinks a couple times before asking, “You’re only thinking to ask that now?”

Tony shrugs. No big deal if he doesn't want to answer; Tony'll just have to come up with a different nickname and in the meantime keep his mouth occupied so that he doesn't shout out 'Galahad'.

Man, that would be super awkward.

Tony takes the refilled tumbler as it's handed to him, watching the long line of Not-Calling-Him-Galahad-If-It-Kills-Him's throat as he swallows his own water before uttering the worst thing (besides 'no' and 'worthless') Tony's ever heard, “I’m James.”

Seriously, fuck that noise. Tony cocks his head to the side and then shakes it, “No, you can’t be a James.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve fucked at least seven... no, eight Jameses already. James is boring, I’ll have to—"

Not-Another-James looks shocked, as if he wasn't already aware of how utterly mundane his name is. He interrupts Tony, “You’re not fucking me.”

Tony smiles slowly, letting the truth strengthen his words, “Of course I am, shut your mouth." But first to take care of this silly 'James' business, "No, you can’t be a James, you have to be someone else..." And not Jimmy or Jamie... maybe a Jim if they can't come up with something better. Hell, even Galahad is better than (ugh, gag him with a spoon), _James_ , "What’s your last name?”

“Rhodes.”

Hmm. Tony's a talker, in bed or out; he tries to imagine himself calling out 'Rhodes' as he pops off... No, Definitely not. “Too serious. Got a middle name?”

“Rupert.”

He's got to be kidding, Tony scoffs, “What are you, British? No. Just, no. Not happening.” He tries to think it through, resting his cheek on his hand, which is propped up on the elbow he had set proprietarily on J.R... ugh, no, MIT was about as far from Southfork as you could get... Hmm, Rupe? God no... Rhodey? Hmmm. That's probably as good as it's going to get... on Rhodey's desk.

“Fine. Rhodey’ll do. Now c’mon, lets get naked.”

Rhodey practically leaps across the room (nice form), backing up against the door to the room, Tony smugly watches him from the desk. “No! I told you, you are not fucking me. You are drunk. And like twelve years old!”

Tony stands, figuring he'll get a head start and let Rhodey catch up. No one's ever said no to a naked Tony Stark.

“Stark. Stark! Put your god damn pants back on!” Rhodey turns and flips the lights off, plunging the room into darkness. Tony stops, he barely has his pants off. He's not sure why Ga-Rhodey is being so stubborn. Could he really not want any easy fuck?

Rhodey edges around him, Tony can barely make him out in the soft glow from the window. Maybe Rhodey's actually straight? But again, straight, gay, and in between, everyone's a Tonysexual in their heart.

The covers rustle and Rhodey orders, “Go to sleep, Stark. Remember the trashcan.”

Huh. Probably just drank too much and can't get it up. Not that that's ever happened to Tony, but it has to a couple of professors he likes to earn 'extra credit' with.

Come to think of it, Professor Franks is one of the Jameses.

Tony grumbles out a “Fine” and crosses over to the other bed, leaving his pants on the vacated chair. If he wasn't ninety-two percent certain it'd get him kicked out into the hall in nothing but his lucky underpants he'd strip off his shirt and crawl into bed with Rhodey. No way will he believe Tony's willing to settle for cuddling now. He'd even mean it, though he knows himself well enough to know he wouldn't be able to to keep from pushing Rhodey's boundaries.

A couple minutes later he hears soft snores from the other bed. It isn't exactly sleeping next to someone, but it's close.

Tony closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. If he can't sleep with him, and he can't sleep next to him, this will have to do. Besides, he can always try again in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

Hmmm, sheets smell nice. Not McCormick nice, but nice. Freshly laundered, so he's not in his room, which is already a bonus. He thinks maybe there were twins, too? That would be awesome. He hasn't had twins since that double date with Ty.

He stretches slowly, time to figure out where he is. He's not nearly as sore as he should be based on his fragmented memori-

FUCK! The bed/tilt-o-whirl refuses to let him go and he ends up flat on his face, dust bunnies staring back at him.

He looks up, and then up some more, "Where..." He starts to ask the delicious vision where he is when the thought of tasting anything crashes into the noxiously cheerful morning sunshine and his category four hangover, "Be right back!"

He has a vague recollection of stumbling down this hallway last night and thanks which ever patron saint looks after hung-over teenagers that he picked the right direction as he collapses to his knees before the porcelain altar.

“Hey Stark! Which stall are you in?”

Sweet baby Jesus on a jet plane, make it stop, “Too loud...”

“Yeah yeah. Here’s your pants," the pleasant baritone (Gale something? No, that's not right,) says, blessedly softer than before. Tony just barely catches his jeans before they end up in the toilet, “Come get your shoes when you’re feeling more human, okay?”

“Just a minute," he says. Well, okay, it probably sounded more like a dying cow's last breath, but the effort should count for something.

It takes him a bit to remember how pants work, but once he does more of last night filters in, helped along by the dregs from the vodka bottle in hs back pocket. A bottle he got from... from Jimmy something- Oh, right! James Rupert Rhodes. Not vodka guy. Rhodey. (Galahad.) Tony groans. Wait, no, he never said Galahad out loud. And he will go to his grave before he let's anyone, least of all Rhodey, know about the nickname.

He spends a couple minutes brushing his teeth with his finger and then tries to smooth out his bed head. Eh, New Wave works on him. And now that he's not too drunk to really pull out the Stark charm maybe he can finally get his fine ass laid.

He drinks a little more from the faucet before shaking off the hangover with the ease of long practice and heading back to Rhodey's dorm 'on a mission from God'.

He finds Rhodey standing in the middle of the room, both beds stripped to their cheap mattresses. He makes sure Rhodey's eyes are on him (and if Tony's gaze takes a brief detour to reacquaint himself with Rhodey's rockin' bod, who could blame him) before crossing to the far bed, showing off his various assets before stretching out slowly.

Rhodey, disappointingly unimpressed, rolls his eyes.

“Rhooooodey,” he draws out the nickname wincing internally as his voice cracks (Smooth. Real smooth. Step it up, Stark.)

“My name is James.”

Tony shakes his head, “Told you. Can’t be a James. Jameses are boooooring. Had, like, at least six of ‘em already.”

“Last night you said eight.”

Six, eight, whatever. Too many to count, “Oh, eight could be right. They’re so booooring I might’ve forgot some of ‘em,” he looks up at Rhodey through his eyelashes with his, 'you know you want me' grin.

Rhodey frowns and crosses his arms in disapproval, “You can’t possibly have had sex with eight different men named James. You’ve only been here for a semester.”

“What makes y’think I didn’t have sex until I got here?”

“You’re like twelve years old!”

“Am not. I’m fourteen." (Fifteen in May.) "And a half.”

For a second Tony thinks he may still have a chance, but then Rhodey's shouting, and while he's gorgeous when he's angry this isn't exactly the type of passion Tony was hoping for,

“Oh my god. Seriously?" Rhodey paces back and forth, pent up energy and he looks like he wants to hit something, someone, and Tony has to fight the instinct to curl into himself, to try and look even smaller than he is, "I was joking! I thought... this fucking campus is full of fucking pedophiles!”

“Pretty sure they’d be hebephiles, not pedophiles. I’m not a fucking kid," hell, he's pretty sure he's old enough to get married in, like, Tennessee or something.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Stark, there is just so much wrong with that statement...” Rhodey scrubs his hands over his face and takes a breath, reining in his temper; Tony feels the hair on the back of his neck start to settle, “What are you even doing here, if you’re that young? Shouldn’t you be in some ridiculously expensive private academy somewhere up in New Hampshire?”

“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.”

“That’s not... God.” Rhodey stops pacing and stares at him, making Tony even more uncomfortable. So not the way he wanted this morning to go. Shit, if he can make it out of here without getting smacked around he'll call it a win at this point. Rhodey's obviously pissed that Tony's younger than he thought, and now that he's too young (in Rhodey's misguided opinion) too fuck, and Tony doesn't have anything else on him to trade for the night's rescue, he's pretty sure he's about to get his ass handed to him.

Rhodey surprises him once again with the Galahad act, asking gently, “Do you remember much from the party last night?”

Both more and less than he'd like, “Eh, a lot of it.”

“Those guys from the crew team, did you come to the party with them?”

“Nah— well, sort of, in that I ran into them on the walk over, but I didn’t know them before that. They knew how to party though. I haven’t gotten wasted that fast in weeks.”

“Right.” And here comes the You're-Such-A-Disappointment Train out of Judgmental Junction, like fucking clockwork, “And do you remember what they were about to do when I came over and grabbed you?”

Tony grins, “Well that big guy– he never told me his name, he’s probably a Howard or something– was about to pound my not-so-virgin hole into the floor.”

“And did you want him to?” Rhodey asks, too calmly, and Tony's had enough.

He's not going to stick around for a holier-than-thou lecture from the prude who wouldn't even spend the night in the same bed as him. He rolls off the mattress and gets his shoes, layering on his 'Fuck You' smile, like the kind he has to pull out for Dad's lame press conferences where they all pretend to be a happy family, “Hey, so I like a bit of gay sex every once in a while– you really don’t know what you’re missing if you’ve never had a prostate massage, and there’s nothing like being spit-roasted by a couple of big burly guys...”

Rhodey grabs his arm and he flinches, but the blow never lands, Rhodey lets go as though he’d been burned. Right. Galahad through and through. Why was it that the good ones never wanted him? (Because they don't have to make do with broken toys, dumbass.) He watches Rhodey's face as he says, “Stark. I have no problem with gay people. What you like in bed shouldn’t matter to anybody but the person you’re doing it with. I just want to know if I was right to come over and pull you out of there, or if I should have minded my own business.”

Tony feels his smile falter, and he can't meet Rhodey's eyes as he remembers the helpless feeling as he watched the Deke unbuckle his belt. When he thinks he can speak without that feeling leaking into his words he says, softly, “Nah, you did good.”

He catches Rhodey's relieved and sincere smile from the corner of his eye and feels his own smile relax into something more natural, "You’re a good bro. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Gala- Rhodey. Rhodey, _Rhodey_ , **Rhodey**. Rhodey grins at him, “Hey, you know where I live. Feel free to drop by any time.”

He... Tony thinks he might actually mean it, and he feels something warm and sweet curl up inside his chest, like a cat that's found a perfect sunbeam. He covers the moment, awkwardly punching Rhodey in the shoulder once and striding out of the room as if he owns it.


	7. Chapter 7

The next couple of days are easier than he expected. He manages to avoid the frat losers long enough for them to completely forget about the party, except for Darryl (not a Howard after all, which is a good, otherwise bending over for him would have been even _more_ uncomfortable). Darryl fucks him in the shower, taking his humiliation out on Tony, wheezing through his broken nose the whole time. Tony's lucky he keeps his hysterical laughter at bay at the sound of Darryl panting 'dake it 'ore'; he's just barely kept the pounding to his ass as it is, no reason to antagonize the dickbrain. He decides he's done crashing at frat houses for a while and decides to ride the sorority circuit for the next couple of weeks.

That plan lasts until Thursday, Kiki and Heather have adopted him like some kind of pet (he knew it was a mistake to sleep with one after another and then both of them, this is what he gets for being lazy). He's thinking through his options when he looks across Killian Court and sees Rhodey in an ROTC uniform, causing all of his synapses to shudder to a halt.

He and the girls make Friday night plans, or rather, they make plans as they play with his hair and talk down to him like he's a puppy. He'd push them off but it feels really good, and he doesn't want to be on his own on a Friday (any) night.

"What about Heather T.'s birthday?" Kiki asks, "We could wrap a bow around Tony and give him to her for the night."

Tony ducks his head into Heather's neck to hide his flash of anger; sometimes he really doesn't like Kiki.

"Ugh, that bimbette? No way." Heather's disdain rolls off of her and she tightens her finger's against Tony's scalp until she notices his wince and lets go, "Sorry, baby."

"Nah, it's chill. You know I like it a little rough," he grins before licking his lips, relieved when she just snorts and goes back to petting him, "and don't worry, I'll find us a place to party." And hopefully find a new boy toy for Heather (someone who will find her possessive streak hot instead of confining). Kiki can get bent.

Plenty of beds are open for Tony Stark, and if he can find a decent scene for them to get wasted at he'll be able slip his leash and still keep the girls on his rotation.

The next night they've hit five different parties before Tony figures out why none of them have what he's looking for. He doesn't just want a warm body (bed). He wants Rhodey's smile (and okay, yes, a second chance to get his mouth on all those sleek muscles).

Rhodey did say anytime. But so do lots of people. It takes him a bit of asking around to find out where Rhodey usually parties. The ROTC crowd is frankly intimidating (which is hot, but in a 'don't touch the stove' way); they let him know Rhodey doesn't get out much, preferring to study first and play later.

He can't just show up with an entourage on Rhodey's doorstep, but he manages to find one of Rhodey's other friends, a guy named Reggie, alone in the physics lab. He makes up a lame excuse about copying Reggie's work (on an assignment he's already aced, thank you very much) in exchange for a quick blowjob.

He's crawls out from under the desk, taking the floppy and asking, "So some girls and I are gonna party, if you're interested?"

"One of those girls Mary Jane?" Reggie asks, and yeah, with Tony's growing rep it's a fair question.

"I've got a dime bag and more booze than I can carry. You in?"

They walk out together, hooking up with Kiki, Heather, and Jamie-Jimmy-James. Sure the dude's a major dipstick, but he's connected; and if Tony gets caught buying direct from a dealer again his dad really will kill him. Like, never find his body, 60 Minutes special, Diane Sawer's strong jaw and piercing yet compassionate gaze as she asks, "If you could say one thing to your son, what would it be?" And even in his fantasies he can't picture his dad lying for the camera (even to save his own ass) and saying, "I love you, Tony. Come home."

Damn, he needs to get baked. The keg-stand from earlier is wearing off and he's getting melancholy. He gets Reggie to suggest that he might know a quiet place where they can just get high and talk, it's work, but eventually they're outside Rhodey's door and Reggie's about to knock when Tony grabs his wrist, smirking as Reggie pulls away.

"What the hell, Stark?"

"I'm more of the forgiveness than permission type," Tony leers, then opens the door, swallowing a flare of unease as he sees Rhodey hunched over his books.

Fuck it, Rhodey has all weekend to study, and if he wants to kick Tony out maybe he'll head to Heather T.'s on his own. It's too late to pop out of a cake, but he'll figure something out. Besides, Heather T. is plan B. Plan A is marking his place in his text book with the top of his finger and eyeing everyone warily as they follow Tony into the room.

“Rhodey! Didn’t see you at any of the parties on campus, so I decided to bring the party to you!”

He drops onto Rhodey's bed, taking a moment to soak in the smell he remembers from last week, mostly clean laundry with just the hint of Rhodey's aftershave.

Jamie-Jimmy-James starts pouring Cape Cods for everyone while Tony expertly rolls a joint or three. Rhodey looks like he wants to kick them all out and Tony uses his lashes to their full advantage in counter argument, internally dancing at his victory as Rhodey sighs and shuts his textbook.

“I told you before, Stark, my name is James.”

Tony grins, “Well my name’s Tony, but you don’t see me getting all huffy over you calling me ‘Stark’. Besides,” he says leaning into Rhodey's space, savoring the pull of spice and sandlewood, he flaps his hand in Jamie-Jimmy-James' direction, “That guy is a James. He’s a fucking biology major, and a minute-man to boot. You don’t wanna be lumped in with him, do you?”

Rhodey looks around the room, Kiki and Heather have set down the case of beer and are making themselves comfortable on the other bed, Kiki taking a vodka and cranberry cocktail from Jamie-Jimmy-James and whispering something to Heather that makes her roll her eyes. A frown forms between Rhodey's eyes as he watches Reggie lean against a wall, opening a bag of chips. He asks Tony quietly, “Have you slept with everyone in this room?”

Tony's lounges back on the bed, rolling a couple more joints to distract himself from doing something embarrassing like telling Rhodey he missed the way he smells.

“Technically, you are the only person in this room I’ve slept with. However, I have had sex with all the rest of them.” One of the reasons he's so over Kiki is that she kicks him out of their bed, 'letting' him sleep in their closet if he's been good, leaving him to curl up in the common room if he's been a 'useless little shit' (which hardly ever happens any more. Like he told Rhodey last week (and will demonstrate given half a chance) he gives great head).

Tony lights up a doobie and catches Rhodey softly banging his head against his desk. Tony offers him the nicest joint, the one he saved as he handed out the rest, “You smoke?”

"Wait wait wait!” Rhodey panics, jumping to his feet and cracking a window. He grabs a towel from the closet and frantically jams it under the door.

Kiki and Heather are giggling at him (though that could be the spent roach between them) from the bed and Tony raises a mocking eyebrow, “Really, Rhodey? It’s just pot. Nobody cares if you smoke pot in college. Hell, I’ve gotten high with professors already...”

Rhodey stalks back towards his bed, filling up Tony's vision and poking a finger into his chest, “Nobody cares if you smoke pot in college. But I am not a Stark, I don’t have a daddy who can donate a lab to keep me from getting expelled. So I will take whatever precautions I feel necessary when you burst into my room and light up, understand?”

Tony blinks, trying to get Rhodey into focus; God, he's sexy like this. He looks dangerous and concerned and it causes butterflies to flutter in the pit of Tony's stomach. He drinks in Rhodey's heaving chest and bright eyes and can't help himself, doesn't want to help himself, “You are really ridiculously hot when you’re angry, you know that? Hotter even than in that uniform you were wearing the other day, I didn’t know you were in ROTC, I never would’ve let you just put me to bed if I had seen you in your uniform last weekend...”

Rhodey snaps his fingers under Tony’s nose. “Hey. That’s enough of that.”

Tony forces himself to stop babbling and offers up the joint again. Rhodey treats him to another of his long suffering sighs (Tony's gotten long suffering sighs from people he's just met. He's honestly surprised that it's taken Rhodey this long to get to that point) and reaches over Tony to open the window a bit wider despite the cold November air. Tony has a delightful second to hope that Rhodey will give in and collapse on him, but he just takes the joint and settles down on the floor next to Reggie. Which, duh, of course Rhodey's going to hang out with his friend. Tony tells himself it's enough to just be able to chill in the same room, and Tony's an excellent liar, especially when he's telling himself what he wants to hear.

He leaves Rhodey alone, trying to talk Reganomics with the others and getting shut down every time he opened his mouth. Eventually he gives up and wanders around the dorm room, taking in the differences to his own barren space.

There's a picture of Rhodey and his family, some vacation in the mountains, dirty and smiling, looking happy in a way the Stark's professional portraits will never be able to mimic. He moves back to the other side of the room, more pictures of another family, presumably the missing roommate. They look unnaturally happy too, all warm smiles and soft eyes. Tony brushes the picture frame before setting it down.

He glances over at Rhodey and Reggie, smoking in companionable silence; something Tony's never had, probably isn't capable of having. They look gorgeous together and, Jesus, of course Rhodey's never going to want Tony the way Tony wants him, not if he's got a guy as hot as Reggie to hook up with.

Tony starts going through a box of cassette tapes, looking for something upbeat to play, keeping a mocking dialog in his head in counterpoint to the political conversation on one side (please, God, if he's ever that much of an uninformed ass strike him with lightning before he reaches the polls) and surreptitiously listening into Reggie's and Rhodey's softer conversation.

“So, how’d you fall in with this crowd? I didn’t think you knew Stark at the party last weekend.”

“I didn’t. It was the weirdest thing. I was finishing up in the physics lab this afternoon when Stark burst in and offered a blowjob if I’d let him copy my results. I guess he’s in the other section? And hell if I’m gonna turn down a free blowjob... Then afterward he said he had a dime bag and more booze than he could carry and wanted to party, and did I want to come with? And then I ended up here.” Well, that's good at least. Apparently Reggie hasn't put together that the only reason he's here is to make it look like they've got a legitimate reason for showing up on Rhodey's doorstep.

He watches Rhodey through his lashes, his full lips pulling a long drag on the joint. Tony wonders what he'd look like with his lips around Tony's dick (not that that will ever happen, Tony can tally the number of bjs he's been on the receiving end of on one finger, and he's not even sure if a teasing swipe of Ty's tongue that one time really counts).

He misses the next thing Rhodey says and only gets part of Reggie's response, "Makes me feel a little dirty..." Tony bites his lip, of course letting a slut like him touch him would make Reggie feel that way, he just wishes he hadn't told Rhodey that part, he was still hoping Rhodey would focus on what a good lay he'd be and not on how he got to be so good.

Also, if Mondale had gone with Bentsen as a running mate instead Ferraro he may have fared better, but Ferraro's main detraction wasn't being a chick, it was being married to an idiot who thought hiding financials in an election year was something you could do and win. Tony's known plenty of women that could handle running the country (and specifically Italian American women, like his mom) and Kiki and Heather are idiots if they don't think their attitudes are part of the problem with politics. Not that he's going to both opening his mouth again.

Reggie actually does seem to be helping the get Rhodey into bed plan, talking him up with, “Must be a born cocksucker then. The things he did with his tongue...”

Rhodey interrupts what's sure to be an ode to Tony's mouth, “Did you at least reciprocate?”

Well, isn't that interesting. More proof that Rhodey's one of the good ones.

“Fuck no! I’m no faggot!”

Tony can't help but flinch at the offended outrage in Reggie's voice, fingers clenching around the plastic casing of Purple Rain.

In the next moment Rhodey's crouched down next to him, bumping his shoulder and murmuring, “Hey. Thanks for coming by and pulling me away from my studying. Don’t know what I was thinking trying to be good on a Friday night.”

Tony was afraid Rhodey was coming over to kick him out, and he can't stop a stupid smile from curving his mouth.

Rhodey smiles back, though it's kind of stiff and by the set of his shoulders he's upset. Tony tries to puzzle out what he have have done, other than the barging in since Rhodey just put the kabosh to that possibility, though he could be lying.

Tony's even more confused when Rhodey follows up with, “But did you have to bring these assholes? You know they’re just going to end up making a mess, and then I’m going to be stuck washing my roommate’s sheets. Again.”

“It’s not much of a party with only two people.” And it's not like non-assholes are knocking down Tony's door wanting to hang out.

Rhodey shrugs, “Parties are overrated. Sometimes it’s more fun just hanging out with friends.”

Tony clenches his jaw and stares back at down the cassettes. He breathes out, “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have any friends.”

Rhodey nudges Tony with his shoulder again, “Hey. You’re supposed to be a genius, right? Do I really have to spell out that that was me saying we can be friends, so you don’t have to come up with an excuse next time you want to hang out?”

“Oh.” Tony feels the blood rush to his cheeks. Rhodey wants to be his friend?

Oh! Duh! He shakes the ridiculous thought off. Of course, Rhodey's a fucking gentleman. He would never fuck Tony on a pile of coats at a frat party, and he's not gonna tap Tony's ass in front of his hot friend. Tony should have known to show up on his own.

He arches a playfully sultry eyebrow (which took months of practice to get right), “So you wanna get me alone again? Wanna do dirty, dirty things to my nubile young body? Regretting your chivalry last weekend now? Can’t say I’d complain...”

Rhodey rolls his eyes and smacks the back of Tony’s head lightly, “That wasn’t a come-on, idiot.”

Tony's been hit plenty over the years, but never that...nicely before. Like the blow was meant to comfort rather than hurt. He's not sure what to make of it. Rhodey doesn't help, leaning back to finish his last toke with a mellow smile.

Okay, so at least for tonight it looks like he's not alone and it's not gonna cost him his body. He reaches up for a couple of Coors, opening them before handing one to Rhodey.

They talk about music, then movies; happily finding out that they both think Temple of Doom is kind of lame, but Raiders is awesome. From there they segue into Star Wars, which leads into robotics, and Tony doesn't even notice when everyone else pairs up until he pauses in the middle of talking about heuristic algorithms to make sure no one is listening (Heather and Reggie have claimed Rhodey's bed and are noisily making out; Kiki and Lame-James (long may they disappoint each other instead of Tony) are both passed out the other bed,) before cautiously telling Rhodey about his theory that artificial intelligence could be imbued with personality through alternative programming, and when Rhodey doesn't laugh, he tells him about the blueprints he's been working on for his own learning robots.

They talk until dawn, at some point Tony falls asleep leaning against Rhodey, listening to him talk about the flight simulators he had programmed at USAFA, waking up a couple hours later in the Rhodey's bed, the others gone and Rhodey at his desk, dark head bent over his textbooks as he quietly studies. Tony lets the scratching of Rhodey's pencil and the soft rustle of an occasionally turned page lull him back to sleep, unable to remember a time he's ever felt this safe or content.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony takes Rhodey at his word; meeting him for lunch in the dining hall, learning his classes, ambushing him in the library.

The ROTCies aren't so bad. The first time he hangs out with them after one of their meetings, Rhodey introduces him with a simple, "Hey guys, this is my friend, Tony."

They had ask him a couple questions about his dad, about the company, but when he segues neatly from Stark Industries latest chemical weapons (which, ugh, really, Dad? Chemical warfare is so old school; x-ray lasers are totally the future) to his experiment at the start of the term in Bexley Halls kitchen, he has them laughing before he even gets to his perfect recreation of the RA's look of horror when he found out what Tony had been trying to accomplish. Tony swears the reaction wasn't due to a miscalculation of ingredients; it was a totally intentional explosion. He may have underestimate the critical diameter, but in his defense he was higher than a weather balloon, so it's kind of a miracle that he was only off by a couple feet.

Reggie on the other hand, seems to take a sudden dislike of Tony, making a point to leave every time Tony shows up. Tony isn't about to ask Rhodey to pick between him and any of his real friends, so he does his best to avoid Reggie; which gets easier as the weeks passed.

Tony isn't sure what happened between them, certain that if it has anything to do with him Rhodey would have told him to take a hike, but one day Reggie just isn't around anymore; a fact that Tony takes full advantage of, eating with Rhodey at least once a day, dragging him out to every party Rhodey will let him (a sadly rare occurrence, usually only once a week. Rhodey is one of those poor shmucks who has to study to keep his grades up) and hanging out whenever he has time between projects.

The best thing about spending time with Rhodey (second best after the fact that he's the most genuinely nice guy Tony has ever met) is that his roommate is almost as awesome as Rhodey.

The first time he meets David Kim it's a weeknight, he's finally hit a breakthrough on a line of code he's been working on and really needs to pin down the hardware aspect before he goes any further.

He bursts into Rhodey's room and freezes at the unexpected sight of a strange couple in David's bed; Rhodey had been pretty irritated with Tony for causing him to change his roommate's sheets not once, but twice. It took him a second to realize that the couple are David and his girlfriend.

Great, another one of Rhodey's friends to hate him. Not that Reggie'd been around lately or anything, and his ROTC friends (now that they treat him like any another student instead of a Stark Industries rep) seem to like him just fine; but he was feeling a programmers high and wants to celebrate, not deal with new people.

He feels his press conference smile fall in place as he steps into the room as if walking a red carpet, keeping his back straight and head high.

“Tony Stark. You must be the mysterious David," he says, holding out his hand to Rhodey's no longer absentee roommate.

David seems a little dazed as he shakes Tony's hand, "Um, hi. Yeah, David Kim. Rhodey mentioned you might be around. This is Grace. _My girlfriend_."

"David!" Grace swats David's shoulder and holds her hand out as well, smiling when Tony shakes it in the same professional manner as he had David's,"We've heard so much about you."

Rhodey has his face covered with both hands, which prompts Tony to raise an eyebrow, "Have you now?"

"Don't worry, all good things," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear nonchalantly while wrapping her other hand around David's waist. He returns the gesture and they're so sweet they make Tony's teeth ache.

"I'm sure." And he is, Rhodey's not the type to repeat the worst of Tony's exploits, but that doesn't mean the stories aren't already all over campus (and the tabloids).

"We should get together sometime, my dad's in robotics-" David starts and no.

Just... no. Tony's not going to kill his natural buzz by talking about fathers. 

He grabs Rhodey by the arm and has him out the door before David can finish his sentence, throwing a “Let’s do lunch!” over his shoulder, miming a finger pistol and winking at the happy couple.

As soon as doors shut behind them Tony feels the tension drain out of him and smiles over at Rhodey, about to suggest slices at the dining hall when Rhodey asks, “What are you, a pod person? What have you done with the real Tony Stark? And why do you think ‘let’s do lunch’ is something actual people say?” 

Tony blinks, his smile slipping. Obie says it all the time, but again, that would lead to thinking about his dad and tonight's official no buzzkills rule, so he settles on, “People say ‘Let’s do lunch.’”

Rhodey shakes his head, “No. No they don’t.”

Tony pouts and crosses his arms. “I say ‘Let’s do lunch,’ and I’m people, so people say “Let’s do lunch.’ That’s the transitive property in action, Rhodey, you must have taken elementary logic by now..."

Rhodey grins and ruffles Tony’s hair, and he hates it when Rhodey treats him like a kid, which makes him pout harder as Rhodey counters, “Nope. That’s terrible logic, Tony. What kind of genius is that sloppy? You aren’t ‘people’. You’re ‘a person,’ singular. So you saying ‘Let’s do lunch’ means that ‘a person’ says ‘Let’s do lunch,’ not ‘people’.”

Tony sticks his tongue in a display of utmost maturity and squirms out from under Rhodey's hand, trying to fix his hair. “Fine, be pedantic. But all this talk of lunching aside, I’m starving. I just spent the last fourteen hours trying to work out a tricky bit of coding that I finally got, because I am a genius, thank you very much, and was headed to the dining hall...”

The next time David is home when Tony comes over, he makes an ass out of himself when he'd finds out that David's dad worked for George Devol at Unimation before the Westinghouse takeover. David (the lucky bastard) has actually touched the very first PUMA, and is not only on speaking terms with his father, but invites Tony over to meet his parents the next time they're in town.

After that they settle into an easy sort of friendship; David not only doesn't mind Tony being in his space, he asks Tony over even when Rhodey's in class. Usually to discuss either of their latest engineering projects, but sometimes Grace will be there, and will talk about art or architecture, or about their last camping trip, or her sister's wedding plans. And it feels nice. It feels normal.

The Kim's are every bit as wonderful as David made them out to be, and Tony swallows down the it's-not-fair that sticks in his throat and geeks out over Mr. Kim, getting him to talk about the early days at Unimation, his work with GM and eventually getting so technical that Mrs. Kim pulls them both away to dinner by their ears saying, "Enough science talk."

A week later Mrs. Kim sends him a card through David. It's plain card stock and had a crisp ten dollar bill inside, along with a neatly handwritten, “It was a pleasure to meet such a charming young man. Take care of yourself.”

Tony's speechless (possible for the first time since learning how to speak) Rhodey and David laugh at him, but he carefully tucks the card into his Member's Only jacket, taking it out and reading it over and over again when he gets back to his room.

He's started spending more time in his own dorm since he met Rhodey. Somehow knowing he has a place to go, the same place, knowing he'll be welcome... it makes it easier to sleep in his empty single half the time. He's got blueprints all over the walls, different designs, including a pre-Alice Unimate prototype (Mr. Kim had sketched it out for him using Grace's drafting table), which he's leaning towards more and more. He's at least a year away from the manufacturing stage, but he really needs to pick something or run the risk of any new code being useless.

He pins the card, money and all, next to the calligraphied 'U' Grace had doodled before letting Mrs. Kim write out 'nimate' in the same straightforward print that's in the card, knowing he's made his decision.

On bad days, days when the code won't untangle, or Rhodey's not around, or he calls to talk to Mom only to have Jarvis tell him (in his properly stiff British accent) that she's off at some charity meeting, he comes back to his room and lifts the flap of card to run his finger over the words, "Take care of yourself." There's something about touching the physical proof that someone, somewhere, however briefly, cared.

Rhodey's sighing at him, his I'm-not-going-to-indulge-your-bullshit sigh, and Tony looks over to David, "Back me up, D-man. Thanksgiving's the perfect time to get into strip clubs; they're so desperate for business I could use _your_ ID and they'd let me in."

David looks from him to Rhodey and back again, "I promised James the only laws I'd help you break were the laws of physics."

It's Tony's turn to huff a sigh, "Boooooring. Both of you. B-O-R-I-N-G," he spells out for emphasis.

The next day he gets a call from David's mom, "Mrs. Kim is something wrong?"

He's been reading the financial section and he knows Unimation had massive layoffs last year, and that they where having trouble adapting away from hydraulics. Maybe Mr. Kim needed a job? Not that Tony could do much more than get him in touch with the right people, but if he'll do what he can. He's completely floored when her response is, "Thanksgiving. I'm setting a place for both you and James, so don't disappoint me."

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am. I mean, we'll be there," Tony stutters, what is it about this woman and her ability to steal his words. It's probably some kind of magic. (He hates magic).

"Good boy," is the only other thing she says before hanging up, and it shouldn't leave him feeling so warm, but it does; and besides, no one has to know. David and Rhodey bitch the entire drive there about the bouquet of orchids that take up the remaining passenger seat of David's crappy four door, but it's worth every second of it to see Mrs. Kim's eyes light up when she sees them. She hugs all three of 'her boys' and shoos them inside to the scent of a dozen different foods, spicy and savory and sweet. If he could, Tony would bottle it, not to sell (because seriously, he doesn't need to be any richer) but to keep it, like Scrooge McDuck, happy in his miserliness.

Not that that ends well for McDuck; and he doesn't need life lessons about greed from a cartoon, either. He has enough of that in Malibu, or New York, or London, not that he bothers to keep track of his parents whereabouts these days. Over the last ten years they've settled into an uneasy distance, mostly communicating through messages left with Jarvis. Surrounded by Rhodey, and David and his family, Jarvis is the only other person he wishes were here.

Grace arrives late Friday, and watching her with David and his family makes him jealous all over again, listening to her retell the chaos of her own family's gathering; her sister's a near wreck with the wedding less than a month away, and he's about to break away, find some space to be alone when Mrs. Kim drags him into the kitchen and teaches him how to make mulled cider, winking at him as she adds slightly more than the splash of rum called for by the recipe.

They hand out the mugs to the rest of the family, the younger children already in bed, and Mrs. Kim tells the story of her first Thanksgiving with Mr. Kim's family.

How alone she felt until her future mother-in-law pulled her back into the kitchen, leaving her daughters and son in the other room and teaching her the very recipe they were drinking now, handed down generation after generation. She smiles at Tony for a moment and while she's sharing her story with everyone, in that moment, it's just for him and he has to blink back tears.

That night he shares David's old bed with Grace (Rhodey and David having been relegated to sleeping bags in the living room) and he whispers, "Are you mad?"

"No, you're small and don't take up much space," Grace whispers poking him in the back, "And I don't expect Mamma Kim to be okay with her son and his girlfriend sharing a bed. Besides, you're warm."

Tony huffs impatiently, "I mean about the cider."

"Oh, Tony. Come here," he yelps as she pulls him into a hug and then settles down as she says, "I already know I'm family."


	9. Chapter 9

Tony's days settle into a pattern; weekdays ace his classes; work on what he has secretly dubbed 'Project U'; eat with Rhodey (sometime even eating two meals a day!); hang out with Rhodey, David, and Grace; and, when exhaustion overwhelms him, sleep. Sometimes in his own bed, sometimes Rhodey's, but more often David's as he had taken to spending more and more nights with Grace at her place.

Friday (or Saturday if he ends up so buried in code he forgets what day it is) around ten he stops by Rhodey's with that night's starter booze and they loosen up with a little Sabbath or Maiden and then find the most ridiculously themed frat party they can. Eventually Rhodey gets bored with him like he always does and Tony starts to cruise for his weekend lay, more comfortable than he's been in the past, knowing that Rhodey has his back.

Sometimes it doesn't work out and he tracks down Rhodey, unless Rhodey's busy, in which case he moves on to the next prospect. Sometimes the it goes sideways (usually a straight guy offended by the offer or a girl with a possessive boyfriend Tony missed) and Rhodey pulls on his invisible Galahad armor and saves his ass (again).

But usually... Usually Tony finds a willing bed for the night, and if he can’t handle Rhodey's looks of disappointment anymore, slipping off when his back is turned, that's his business.

Of course, Rhodey can't let it be and since Tony's managed to avoid the look a couple weeks in a row, he apparently feels the need to ask, "Why do you have to hook up with someone every time we go out?"

Fuck. This is it, this is where Rhodey says he can't be around such a cocktease, because whether or not Rhodey wants to fuck him, he isn't going to and maybe he's just tired of waiting for Tony to be old enough to wet his dick, and so Tony lashes out (press conference smile firmly in place to mask the hurt) because if this is over then he sure as hell is gonna try to draw blood, “Well, Rhodey, if you would just give up your uncompromising heterosexuality long enough to pound me into a mattress, I wouldn’t have to find a hook-up, now would I?”

He's almost disappointed, having girded himself for Angry Rhodey (the sexiest of the Rhodeys), but Rhodey just drops it as quickly as he brought it up.

The next Friday, Rhodey's different, and instead of the distance Tony expects, he spends the whole night at Tony's side. When Rhodey's Deke friend, Mike, pulls him over to talk with some of his (thankfully non-crew) frat brothers, Tony's startled when Rhodey grabs his arm and pulls him along. Tony feels distinctly fifth wheel until Rhodey tells Mike about Tony's latest project for Professor Hinds' class, and Mike has Hinds next term and is actually interested in what Tony has to say. Before he knows it it's after two in the morning and the party's died down.

Rhodey walks him back to his room and taps his shoulder in a light and playful punch to say good night. To his surprise, Tony has the best night’s sleep he's had since Thanksgiving.

From then on, Rhodey doesn't abandon him when they party, and he sees what Rhodey's doing, but he's not going to complain, Rhodey's much better at breaking the ice than Tony will ever be, most of his introductory gambits can be boiled down to variations on, 'Wanna fuck?' And he actually appreciates what Rhodey's doing for him.

He's still a horny teenaged American boy, but now he brings Rhodey with him, it helps that in some ways Rhodey's better at reading people than Tony, and he has access to different rumors. His next four hook-ups are amazing, not a single one treats him like a piece of meat or a toy; he never knew how good sex could be when the other person treated you, well, like a person.

And he wants that with Rhodey. Since day one, Rhodey has never treated him with anything more or less than compassion and he doesn't want day wait another second to know what that's like in bed. The next night at dinner the hall is mostly empty, as it normally is by the time Rhodey can pull him away from Project U, and Tony looks up at Rhodey through his eyelashes and whispers, “You know, if there were a tablecloth, I wouldn’t mind ducking underneath it and sucking you off.”

Rhodey hisses in outrage, looking around to see if anyone's heard, "Tony!"

Later that week Rhodey drags them to a guest lecture, something boring and fleshy, prosthetics or something, which Tony is never going to need to use, and under Rhodey's note “Shut up, I’m actually trying to pay attention, dork,” Tony replies, with extra 'o''s to underscore how terribly useless this lecture is, “But Rhoooodey, this is booooring, and if we sneak out now we can pull each other off in Prof. Keane’s office.”

The following Wednesday some moron sets off a stink bomb in Rhodey's dorm (and no, it wasn't Tony, if it had been Tony it wouldn't have filled a floor it would have filled the building. Chemistry isn't his strong suit, but give him _some_ credit) which means Rhodey is at Barker Library, because of course he isn't using this as a excuse to go catch a movie or head into town, which is way too responsible when they have the perfect excuse to go fool around, and now that Rhodey's finally showing an interest Tony doesn't want to wait for this mythical 'old enough'.

He tosses a condom at Rhodey and when he looks up Tony's bent over the back of his chair and waggling his ass, and finally a reaction, Rhodey throws down his pencil and is out of his chair so fast it nearly falls over. He's got his hand fisted in the collar of Tony's shirt and this is it, this is what he's been trying to get for months, and so he ignores the sinking pit in his stomach, his stomach is stupid, his brain is all for a quickie in the john, and he's sure his dick will want in on the festivities.

Any second now.

Rhodey shoves them into the nearest men's room, pushing his back against the door, and now his dick is getting interested, because he's not sure if Rhodey's turned on or not, but he is furious, and, God, that shouldn't be such a turn on but it is, and Tony's drawn to it like a moth to a bonfire, and he doesn't care if it destroys him.

“Tony. I will say this one more time, because you are apparently not getting how serious I am. We. Are. Not. Fucking.”

Tony pouts and then slides his hand along Rhodey's waistband, plenty of things they can do that aren't fucking, and he knows how tempting he looks on his knees, and Rhodey can't leave him, he's the only real friend Tony's got, “Fine. How ‘bout I kneel down and blow you?”

James grabs Tony’s hand, wrapping his own around it and pinning it to the wall next to them, “NO! We are not having any sort of sex!”

“But why nooooot?” Tony whines, Rhodey can't take this away, not now. No Rhodey means no Mike, and no David and Grace, no more Kims at all, no wingman on a Saturday night and he doesn't want to go back to being on his own.

Rhodey's grip on Tony's wrist shakes and he's horrified at what he's done, what he's turned Rhodey into, pushed him into reacting with violence because, long term, that's the only way anyone can deal with him.

“Because you are fourteen fucking years old! You can’t vote! You can’t even drive!”

“You know, you’re only twenty fucking years old. Which means you can’t drink. And yet you did plenty of that last weekend...”

“I said no, Tony! It doesn’t matter what the reason is, when somebody say no, you need to drop it!”

This is worse than any scenario he'd come up with for this moment, because Rhodey's right; and how could he do this to Rhodey, his best (only) friend? All he's every really wanted is to be able to say 'no' and for someone to listen, and Rhodey's been telling him 'no' since day one, saying 'no' for him and he wants to stop himself but he has to know why; what broken wrong thing in him is it that makes Rhodey not want him? “But I want to know the reason!”

Rhodey drops his wrist and turns away, rubbing his hands over his face, “Oh my god, Tony, would you just leave it alone already?”

But he can't. He _needs_ to know. “It’s not ‘cause you’re straight.”

“What do you mean?” Rhodey grinds out, each word falling like an icicle, and maybe this is it, maybe this is where Rhodey gives him the beat down he deserves.

Tony's quick to reassure him, just because he deserves a beating doesn't mean he wants one, “I mean, I know you’re straight, but nobody’s _that_ straight.”

Rhodey exhales slowly, the tension easing from his limbs, and Tony's even more confused than before, when he says, “Look, Tony, has it ever occurred to you that I just don’t find you attractive?”

“Please, everyone finds me attractive. At least attractive enough for me to go down on them.” Everyone except Rhodey; and if he doesn't want to fuck him, and doesn't want to hit him, then why does he bother putting up with Tony at all?

“You’re just going to have to let me be mysterious, Tony.”

Rhodey walks out of the bathroom and Tony thinks, 'That's it. It's over.'

He had never imagined losing something would hurt this much; but then, he'd never had this much to lose.


	10. Chapter 10

Rhodey surprises him that night; having picked up a couple of greasy burgers he barges into Tony's room, grabbing one for himself before flopping down on Tony's bed and opening a textbook, "These problem sets are going to be the death of me. Look them over, will you?"

It's weird. After that Tony rarely has to go looking to find Rhodey, if he isn't in Tony's room, his own room, or Barker Library, he actively seeks Tony out.

And then it gets _really_ weird. And then... weirdly better.

Rhodey's sprawled out on Tony's bed, outlining a paper for some English requirement or something while Tony works on Project U when out of nowhere he starts swearing like one of Dad's Commando war buddies, "Jesus Fucking Christ."

“What?” Tony saves his work and turns in his chair. Rhodey's angry for no reason, unless he's mad at his paper or something?

Rhodey bites out, "Motherfucking assholes."

“What is it?” Sure, English seems like a wasted credit, but Rhodey likes this class... At least Tony thought he did.

Rhodey snarls, "Pin-dicked fuckwitted tools."

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” Jesus Christ, he's having some sort of a fit. Tony's heard of people on LSD having some knarly flashbacks, it's one of the few drugs he won't touch (just the _thought_ of flashbacks is kind of terrifying), and he doesn't think Rhodey ever would, not knowingly, but if he's having a bad trip he could need a doctor. Tony doesn't want to leave him to get help; panicking he grabs Rhodey's shoulders and shakes him, hoping for some sort of recognition, “Rhodey! Answer me!”

Rhodey blinks coming back to himself and he slowly raises his hands to Tony's, which are trembling like winter's last leaves. He brings Tony's hands off his shoulders and looks him in the eyes, “You know I’m never going to make you have sex with me in exchange for my friendship, right?”

Tony blinks, but it only takes a second to trace his outburst and connect the dots; Rhodey's finally realized that the only reason anyone gives him the time of day is because he's good for a suck, fuck, or buck. He's obviously pissed, but getting upset because someone else is going to use something you don't want is more selfish than he'd thought Rhodey was capable of and since he's made it absolutely clear that Tony's never going to meet whatever bizarre standard Rhodey's set for 'fuckable', why the hell is he keeping Tony around at all?

He tries to step back, to reclaim his hands, but Rhodey holds on like he's sinking and Tony's his life line, or maybe he's Tony's and Rhodey continues, “I like hanging out with you, Tony. I like hanging out with you because you’re funny and smart and kind and just fucking all-around amazing, and I am going to keep hanging out with you as long as you like hanging out with me. You are my friend. I don’t give a damn who you have sex with, so long as you really want to have sex with them and they don’t hurt you, but you don’t ever have to have sex with me. And if anybody ever makes you feel like you are obligated to have sex with them, I will find them and I will hurt them. Because you don’t deserve that. Nobody deserves that. Do you understand me?”

Tony blinks away the tears before they can form, because he isn't a week little girl that cries at everything, but he can't make his mouth form any words, certainly not without his voice cracking and so he gapes like a fish and tugs once more at his hands but Rhodey doesn't let go.

Rhodey takes a deep breath, like he's about to go under (is he drowning or is Tony? Who's saving whom?), “Can I give you a hug?”

Tony closes his mouth slowly, then nods twice, staccato. Rhodey slides off the bed and straight into his personal space, carefully enfolding him in the gentlest, most sincere hug he's ever received. He slowly wraps his arms around Rhodey's waist and squeezes without conscious thought (as long as he doesn't try too hard it just comes naturally).

They stand there, entwined, for a long time. Eventually, Tony loosens his hold and they part by degrees, heads turning away and arms falling to their sides. Neither steps back though, content to stand chest to chest breathing the same air.

Finally, Rhodey pulls himself back up on the bed and pats the spot next to him.

“So c’mon, tell me again why what you’re programming isn’t going to turn into Skynet?”

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding the warnings; Tony is 14 1/2 and doesn't have the maturity (or often the sobriety) to consent. There are a couple of scenes where he isn't given a choice, including an attempted gang rape. 
> 
> If there are any other warnings or tags you would like to see added, please let me know.


End file.
